What If?
by theologygirl
Summary: What might have happened if Clarisse decided she didn't want a fairy tale ending.
1. A Fairy Tale Ends

_No claim on ownership, just having a bit of fun. This story takes place near the end of the second movie, just with an alternate ending._

"Grandma, just because I didn't my fairy tale ending doesn't mean you shouldn't".

Clarisse hardly knew what to do with herself. Normally she was composed and eloquent, but right now she was decidedly undecided.

"Charlotte, did you hear that?"

"Not if you didn't want me to."

"Oh, Charlotte." The Queen smiled, giving back the earpiece. Her assistant was a dear, she really couldn't manage without her, wouldn't even consider trying. Clarisse straightened her coat and cleared her throat.

"Joseph", she called to him.

He had heard Mia's admonition to her Grandmother on his own earpiece. He knew that Mia was in favor of him pursuing a relationship with Clarisse; he just hadn't expected that she would be so bold to suggest they start right now. He had tried not to look at Clarisse after Mia's suggestion; afraid of the expression he might see on her face. He had hardly been able to breath in those few seconds, then she had called his name, in that deep, seductive voice she had. He took a few steps toward her, bowing his head.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"It seems as though the party is over. I think it's time for Mia and I to make our exit. Would you make the arrangements, please?"

"Of course, Your Majesty". With a bow, he stepped back and went off to order the car around front and get his security team ready for the return to the palace.

Charlotte blinked, and her eyes became moist, dangerously close to spilling over and down her cheeks. Mia, from the front of the church saw Joseph bow, and then leave. She turned to Lionel with a questioning look.

"He's gone to order the car for the trip back to the palace, Your Highness. "

"What? But, she was supposed to, they were supposed to…" She looked at her Grandmother, standing straight and stoically, waiting for Mia to join her in the Narthex. The Prime Minister stepped up and held out his arm, "If you please, Your Highness, I am to escort you to your car."

Reluctantly, Mia took his arm and together they walked down the aisle. When they reached the Queen, the Prime Minister bowed, and Clarisse turned and lead the way to the waiting vehicle.


	2. Not Meant to Be

Safely deposited in the back of the limousine, Clarisse did not look at Mia until Joseph closed the door and they were underway.

"I'm very proud of what you did in there today, Amelia"

Silence from the opposite seat.

"Amelia, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, Grandmother, I heard you."

Clarisse sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be easy. "Amelia, I know what you were trying to do in there, and I appreciate it very much. But, what's done is done."

"Look, it's your life. You were the one who settled for 'fondness' over love. You were the one who just said Joseph is the only man you ever really loved. Why on earth did you throw away a chance to finally be happy?" Mia threw herself back against the plush leather seat cushions, arms folded across her chest.

Clarisse looked down at her folded gloved hands in her lap. "It's not meant to be, Mia, it's just not meant to be."

The limo rolled to a stop in front of the Palace. A footman held the door open for the two ladies. Mia alighted first, to find Charlotte waiting to help her with her train. The girls exchanged looks, Mia, noticing Charlotte's red eyes, gave her hand a squeeze as she made her way up the Palace steps. The Queen followed, walking alone, silently, lost in her own thoughts.

Joseph had come back to the Palace in the same car as Charlotte, and now stood beside it, watching the Queen enter the Palace. He wondered if he would ever see her again.


	3. Departure

Clarisse settled herself at her desk on Monday morning, slipped on her glasses and picked up her daily schedule: meetings, a luncheon, tea with the Prime Minister, and supper with the University Board of Trustees, and finally a night at the symphony, accompanied by the French Ambassador. Bedtime wouldn't come until well after midnight, and Clarisse found herself wishing away the hours. A small note in Charlotte's handwriting caught her eye at the bottom of the page: "1830 hrs: Joseph departs."

Clarisse suddenly felt faint, dropped the paper and leaned back in her chair. Her heart was pounding, and her palms felt sweaty. So, she thought, it was coming even sooner than she anticipated. 1830 hrs. In 10 and one half hours her life would forever change, he would be gone, and she would be alone. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, desperately wanting his departure not to matter.

But it did matter. It was everything. It was also coming without any closure. Where was the usual gaiety and good-natured ribbing that usually accompanied the retirement of one of her staff? Charlotte had told her Joseph had refused all gifts, all parties, he had simply wanted to pack up his office, his suite, say goodbye to a few close friends and drive through the Palace gates without fanfare. It was her duty to let him go with dignity, and she always did her duty.

The day had been the hardest Clarisse could remember in recent times. She went through it on autopilot, smiling when she was supposed to, asking a question at the appropriate time, but her heart was simply elsewhere. How was he spending his day? What was he thinking as he packed up his clothes and personal effects, and his pictures? What would he do with all the pictures of them over the years? She wondered if they'd go in a box, and be forever forgotten.

At five-thirty, Clarisse returned to the Palace from the Prime Minister's Office, and at Charlotte's suggestion had gone to her suite to take a short break before supper. She lay on her bed, sideways, clutching a small pillow, and began sobbing. Olivia had come to the door to check on Her Majesty, and seeing her racked with the pain of a lost love, gently closed the door, tears in her own eyes.

The staff closest to Joseph had gathered outside to see him off. Shades, Charlotte, some of the cooks, the housekeeper, and several others whom he had mentored over the years stood around the car, which was filled with boxes, suitcases and miscellaneous items collected during his service to the Crown. Joseph leaned on the hood of the car, in black as usual, and said his goodbyes to his friends. He had said goodbye to Mia earlier in the day; she'd given him a hug but he could tell she was still quite angry with him. Now all there was left to do was get in his car and drive away from the place that had been his life for so long. It was over, but it was unfinished.

Clarisse got up and moved to her balcony and glanced down to where Joseph's car was parked and watched as he shook hands and waved goodbye to some of the senior staff. As he got into the driver's seat he looked up, somehow sensing she was there. Their eyes locked, but no smile passed between them. Joseph started the car and Clarisse watched him drive out the palace gates. Her knees were weak, and she dropped down on the lounge chair, hugging herself and sobbing.


	4. Postcards

Three months and no one had heard from Joseph. Clarisse had continued grooming Mia to be Queen, and had kept herself quite busy. It was much easier, she thought, to be occupied and not have time to think.

It was late September, and the approaching fall was in the air. Mia had asked for a break to visit her mother back in San Francisco, and her Grandmother had agreed. The Palace was quiet when Mia was away, and Clarisse relished the peace herself. She decided to do a walk about, and spent the morning talking with many Palace workers that she rarely got to see. Her last stop was the Palace post office, with its three young and energetic workers.

"Oh, my goodness, what's all this mail?" Clarisse stared at the piles being sorted by the young men.

The Post Master smiled and said, "Happens every first of October. It's all yours, Ma'am, Happy Birthday."

One of the young men asked, "Are you going to read all these postcards, Your Majesty?"

Clarisse laughed, "I suppose it'll take me to my next birthday to get through them all, but I'll certainly try. Thank you, gentlemen. Good day."

"Before you go, Your Majesty, I found this one earlier today and put it aside for you, thought you might like to have it sooner than later." He handed her a postcard with a picture of a Genovia beach. It was nothing remarkable and Clarisse wondered why the Post Master had noticed it. She put it in her pocket, thanked him and left, heading to the kitchen to get her lunch.

As Clarisse got ready for bed later that night, she remembered the postcard in her pocket. After changing into her pale blue silk robe, she sat on her chaise lounge and took a sip of tea before turning the postcard over to see the message.

"_My darling. You are always in my thoughts.  
__Happy Birthday,  
__Joseph"_

She stared in shock at the words. It was his handwriting there was no mistaking it. Joseph had written the card himself. He had used the general palace address, not the personal one he knew would reach her. He had had a need to make a connection with her - he could not have expected the Post Master to be so observant. There was no return address, nothing to give a clue as to his whereabouts, unless, could the card itself be a clue? She could only wonder.

The Coronation had been a joyous event for the entire country. Mia had been fully accepted by the Genovian people, and was making her own way as Queen. Clarisse was very proud of her granddaughter, and very impressed at the progress she had made in such a short time. In fact, so impressed that the former Queen decided to take a holiday of her own. Spring was coming, and so was the wedding of her son Pierre to Charlotte, the engagement announced on New Year's Day.

"Mia," her grandmother broached the subject at breakfast, "I'm thinking of taking a holiday next week, do you think you'll be alright by yourself for a little while?"

Mia put down her fork and looked at the older woman "Absolutely! That's a great idea, grandma, if anybody deserves a break it's you. Well, maybe Charlotte, but with wedding plans and looking after me, she doesn't have the time."

"I agree. But part of my vacation will be to ensure that Charlotte and Pierre have a wonderful honeymoon."

"What?" Mia looked at her grandmother, confused.

"I'm going out to the beach house, I think it will be a wonderful place for Charlotte and Pierre to disappear from the public eye for awhile. It needs some sprucing up after all these years, I'm afraid. I want to see it for myself before the renovations begin."

"We have a beach house? You've been keeping this a secret why?"

"It's not a secret, Mia. It's simply just fallen out of use since the boys grew up. There's a caretaker there, but no one's done anything to the place in years. I'll be gone for only a few days. I'll bring you back some pictures."

_More to come...perhaps tomorrow._


	5. Holiday

Clarisse arrived at the beach house after a three-hour drive from the palace. A small staff accompanied her: the chauffeur, a cook, a housekeeper, and Olivia. There were separate servants' quarters, so Clarisse would have the house to herself.

As she stepped inside for the first time in nearly 25 years, a flood of memories hit her – happier times when the children were small and they had spent their summer vacations here. She stepped over folded sheets that had been removed from the furniture, and began exploring the house.

It had withstood the elements over the years, thanks to a diligent caretaker. All it really needed was some updating of fabric, curtains, bedding, and a fresh coat of paint. Clarisse relaxed, it wouldn't take much at all to make this a hideaway for the soon-to-be-married couple. She opened the French doors to the patio, with its view that had always taken her breath away, and today was no exception. The water lapped up against the dock where two small boats were tied up. The sound of the birds and the smell of the sea air instantly made Clarisse smile and forget all that worried her. She leaned on the railing, the sun on her face warming her entire body. It had been the right decision to come here.

-

After an early supper meal, Clarisse dismissed the staff to let them go explore the seaside town for the evening. Dressed casually, in pants and a light jacket, with a glass of wine in hand, she again went to sit on the patio and watch the sun go down across the bay. Finishing her glass, she decided to take a short walk on the beach. How long since she had felt sand between her toes, she wondered?

It was good, she decided, this whole holiday idea. She didn't even mind being here by herself. She was as relaxed and content as she had been for as long as she could remember. No longer needing to worry about Mia, the girl had proved herself more than capable, and Pierre finally deciding to settle down with Charlotte, there was enough closure to allow Clarisse time for herself.

That's when she realized all was not as well as she had been trying to convince herself. Time for herself meant time alone. Time to read, walk on the beach, time to plant flowers, time to, do what, exactly? To be alone and dwell on the fact that she was alone? She sat on a piece of driftwood and looked out over the bay. "Joseph, where are you now when I need you?"

Eventually, the former Queen of Genovia walked back to the house, the salt water of the ocean mingling with the salt water of her tears. She walked oblivious to the man less than 100 meters from her, who had been standing on the bluff behind her, watching her.


	6. The Invitation

Several days after their arrival, Marcus, the chauffeur, brought an envelope to the beach house, and with a bow, handed it to the Queen. "Your Majesty, this invitation was delivered by one of the staff from the property next door."

"Thank you, Marcus." The chauffeur bowed again and left the room. Clarisse opened the small white envelope and read the card.

It was an invitation to cocktails with the town's well-to-do residents, her neighbors, in fact. She hadn't thought of socializing while she was here, but it would only be a small group of people, very casual and it would do her good to kick up her heels for one night. She hastily filled out the RSVP and called upon Marcus to deliver it.

-

Even though it would be only a three-minute walk next door, Marcus insisted that he drive Her Majesty, and would be ready at a moment's notice to drive her back to the beach house. Clarisse gave in and consented to be driven.

An attendant opened the door of the limousine upon her arrival at the Adair Inn, and another escorted Clarisse into the house. The Inn was similar to the beach house, but years earlier had been transformed into an inn and spa for wealthy travelers and repeat guests, of which there were many. Rumor had it; the cook had told her earlier, that there was a 2-year waiting list for a stay at one of Genovia's finest establishments.

The staff member took Clarisse directly to the patio, which had a similar view to that of her own patio, but the bluff between the two properties gave them both the privacy they desired. No one else was there, but a waiter came and brought her a raspberry cosmopolitan, a favorite of hers. She thanked him and was duly impressed that her host had bothered with such a small detail as a drink preference. The waiter told her the owner was running a few minutes late but would join her shortly. She should make herself comfortable.

Clarisse sipped her drink and watched the sun go down, relaxed but wondering where the other guests were. This was unusual for her, waiting for others, how many times had Joseph chided her for keeping her guests waiting? That anxious feeling in her stomach came back at the thought of him. The longer she stayed at the beach house the more she thought of him, and the less calm she became. After all these years, how could he still have that effect on her?

The waiter returned with another drink, and took her empty glass. "He'll be right down, Ma'am. Won't be a minute". Clarisse thanked him and returned to the railing, momentarily distracted by a yacht mooring at the Inn's dock. While she had been waiting, she had tried to come up with the name of the inn's owner, but couldn't. There was no real shame in that, she told herself, after all, she hadn't been here for a quarter of a century. She had momentarily toyed with the idea of asking the waiter, but that would have been both rude and embarrassing. She was just hopeful the name would come to her when she saw him.

And it did.

She had heard the patio door close and turned to greet her host. Peering at him in the semi-darkness, she saw a man dressed in dark pants, white shirt, and a dark colored sport coat. As he stepped down off the terrace to the patio she saw he had an earring in his left ear. Clarisse drew a sharp breath. He rushed to her side and caught her as consciousness quickly slipped away from her.


	7. Reunion

With the help of one of the staff, Joseph got Clarisse inside and into a private room. They laid her on the sofa, and Joseph kneeled on the floor beside her. It was only a few moments before she regained consciousness and opened her eyes.

Joseph dismissed the staff member and helped Clarisse sit up. He sat beside her, his arm protectively around her shoulder and his other hand on hers. He said nothing as Clarisse registered the fact that it _was _Joseph she had seen. He gave her a moment to become adjusted to the shock.

"Clarisse, my dear, I am so sorry to have given you such a start. I never dreamed that you would react that way; I was just hoping you wouldn't throw something heavy at me, not pass out." He tried to smile, but Clarisse was in no mood to be playful.

"What are you doing here?"

"This place is mine. For quite a while now, in fact."

"You never told me."

"That's right. I didn't."

"Joseph, I don't understand all this."

"Darling, please. I'll explain everything. But first, are you feeling better, can I get you anything?"

"Just an explanation. And then I want to go home. Please have Marcus come for me."

"Marcus is waiting for you outside. He's ready to take you back as soon as you're up to it."

"I can't remember the last time I fainted like that."

"I can. The night I had to tell you Philippe was killed. You collapsed into my arms just like you did tonight. Scary as hell, that night."

"You were always there when I needed you." Clarisse took a breath, and a sip of the water Joseph held out to her.

"I always have been, until recently."

Clarisse nodded. "That's right. So you own this place?" she changed the subject.

"Yes, About 15 years ago I brought Rupert out here to look at it. The owner was moving to America and wanted to sell. The King thought it would be great to own the inn as well as the beach house, but then something happened and he decided against it."

"Pierre joined the church 15 years ago. Rupert was never the same after that." Clarisse lost herself momentarily in memories of long ago.

"After he decided not to pursue it, I researched the property, was able to finance it with investors and the inheritance I received from a wealthy uncle and I've been waiting to retire and run the place. The past year or so has been hard work, but it's kept me busy." He paused, "and kept me from thinking too much."

Clarisse looked at him, studied his face, and noticed the spark had gone out of his dark eyes. "Well, if you'll see me out, I'll say goodnight."

Joseph helped her up and offered his arm, which she declined. He opened the door and walked with her to the car. "Clarisse, may I come by tomorrow, and see you? I think we…"

"No, Joseph." She cut him off. "We've said all that needs to be said. I wish you all the best. I'll be returning to the palace in the morning. Good night." She nodded to Marcus and he helped her inside the car and shut the door. "Good evening, Sir" he said to Joseph and climbed into the driver's seat and steered the limousine down the driveway and back to the beach house.


	8. Covering Up

True to her word, Clarisse returned to the Palace the next day. It came as quite a surprise to the staff who had been expecting at least three more days at the beach house, but they quickly packed up and closed the house. The former Queen seemed quite shaken; only Marcus seemed to know why, and he wasn't talking.

Charlotte greeted the Queen's limousine upon her arrival and realized the trip to the seaside had not been a successful one for the former monarch. Clarisse looked tired and was not walking with her usual regal posture. Her eyes looked slightly puffy, as though she had been crying and there was no smile in the pretty blue eyes. In the presence of other staff Charlotte simply asked, "How was your trip, Your Majesty?"

"Fine Charlotte. I'll be at my desk in 20 minutes, you can catch me up on all I've missed here."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Oh, and Her Majesty is waiting for you in your suite."

A look of displeasure registered on Clarisse's face, not because she didn't want to see her granddaughter, but because she knew she would have to face a barrage of questions that she didn't want to answer. "Fine, thank you."

Charlotte watched the Queen ascend the stairs into the Palace and then went straight to Marcus. "Why are you back early? You said you'd tell me as soon as you got here. Spill it."

Marcus took off his gloves and adjusted his cap. He leaned back against the limousine and sighed. "He was there."

"Who?" Charlotte seemed perplexed.

"You know, _him_."

"Joseph?" Charlotte exclaimed. "Joseph was there? Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because Her Majesty directed me not to breath a word of it to anyone. But I couldn't do it, she's so upset, I thought you had to know. I'll be out of a job because of it, but I couldn't stand to see her feeling so awful with nobody to help her through it, you know?"

Charlotte patted Marcus' arm. "You did the right thing. You won't lose your job, just don't tell another soul. I'll look after it, okay?"

"Thank you, Miss Charlotte."

Charlotte got the full story from Marcus, including the part about Clarisse fainting, her curt dismissal of Joseph, and the early exodus from the beach house. Charlotte made a mental note to call Joseph when she got the chance, but right now she had to figure out how to get Clarisse to deal with her emotions rather than keep it all inside. Joseph had been the only one on staff to force the Queen to let out what was bothering her, and Charlotte just didn't feel she had the same gift. She ran her hand through her hair and caught site of her diamond engagement ring. She smiled, despite her predicament.

-

As Charlotte had said, Mia was waiting for her in her suite. "What's up, Grandma? What are you doing back here so soon? I thought I was going to have the place to myself, throw a few wild parties, and all of a sudden, you're back. What gives?"

Clarisse dropped her handbag on the sofa and sat down. She smiled at Mia and began her rehearsed explanation. "Well, the house was in wonderful condition, the Caretaker does a terrific job, you know. I picked a few paint colors and some fabrics and that was all that was needed. Now I'm home." It fell flat, and Clarisse knew it.

"Mm, hmm. And the real reason a beautiful week at the beach wasn't up your alley is….?"

"Up my alley? I just didn't feel like wasting time out there when there's so much to do back here. Simple. I had a lovely few days and now I'm back. Now tell me what you've been up to."

"You've missed the whole idea of a vacation, Grandma. What am I going to do with you?" Mia gave her grandmother a hug. "I'll see you at dinner." And then she was gone. Clarisse breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't lied, but she knew Mia saw right through her. All she could do was hope that Marcus could withstand Mia's incessant questioning and keep what he knew to himself.

_A/N stay tuned, more to follow. If you want..._


	9. The Rehearsal

In the three months since returning from the beach house, Clarisse had not spoken of her trip to anyone. Charlotte's attempts to engage her on the subject were quickly dismissed. Joseph wasn't taking calls at the Inn, so all Charlotte could do was let nature take its course and go on planning her own wedding and looking after the two Queens.

The wedding was to be a simple affair. Only a handful of guests were invited; all friends of the bride and groom, or close friends of the Royal Family and, of course, the Prime Minister and his wife. The ceremony was to take place in the Palace Chapel, officiated by the Archbishop. The rehearsal was planned for the night before the wedding and was to be followed by a rather large party, thrown in the couple's honor by Queen Mia, the maid of honor.

It was a beautiful July evening for the rehearsal, and the wedding party had gathered in the chapel with the exception of Pierre, the groom. "Leave it to my son to be late for his own wedding rehearsal," Clarisse laughed.

"Just so long as he's not late for the wedding, Your Majesty" added the Archbishop.

"He'll be here soon. He's just gone to the train station to pick up his Best Man" Charlotte, calm as ever, had things under control. She hoped she was giving that impression anyway, since she was extremely nervous about her fiancé's choice of Best Man.

"Let's take our places everyone, we can get started without the groom. He's done many weddings himself, just from the other side of the rail." The group did as the Archbishop directed and faced the altar in their assigned positions. The Queen took her place in the Mother-of-the-Groom's pew on the left side of the small chapel.

Just then, the chapel door opened, and the groom stepped in announcing his own arrival. "We're here, glad to see you waited. You were right, old man, they couldn't start without us." He kissed Charlotte on the cheek, "Sorry we're late, darling," he whispered, "somebody needed more convincing this was a good idea." Pierre turned to face the altar:"My Lord Archbishop, where do you want us?"

Momentarily flustered, the Archbishop looked from the Groom to the Best Man to Clarisse. "Ahh, Your Highness, right here beside your bride, and ah, your, ah, Best Man beside you."

As the bridal party made room for the two men, the side door of the chapel opened and then closed as the former Queen of Genovia made her hasty exit.

A slight pause as the group registered what had just happened. Then a chorus of "I'll go" from at least three people as they tripped over each other in an attempt to go after Clarisse.

In his authoritative voice, the Best Man quieted them all. "No. I'll go. If you'll all excuse me." Pierre squeezed the man's shoulder affectionately as he left the altar, but Mia stood in his way. "Don't let her say no this time, will you, Joe?"

He smiled, "I'll do my best, Your Majesty". He exited the same door as Clarisse had moments ago, and the former Head of Security went off in search of the woman he loved.

_A/N What awaits our tortured couple? To find out keep pressing that little button down there..._


	10. The Agreement

Joe felt none of the confidence he had shown to Mia. Even though he had very reluctantly agreed to Pierre's scheme, he knew that Clarisse had already made up her mind. It was a steel trap, and he knew it from years of experience. At the Inn he had caught her off guard, and he had seen her true feelings. Only deep emotions could have made the incredibly strong former Queen of Genovia faint. Tonight, however, it had been different. She had seen him come in, her eyes instantly meeting his as he walked in behind Pierre. A moment of shock, a brief second of panic, and then the wall went up. He held no hope that she would even talk to him this time.

When he left the chapel he knew exactly where he would find her: the studio. It was two floors up the circular staircase. He didn't know if she had been painting recently, but the room had been her sanctuary over the years when she couldn't face people. People, meaning Rupert. But she had never wanted to be away from Joseph, and often welcomed him into the studio, only never allowing him to see what she was working on. He climbed the stairs and paused with his hand on the doorknob. It was ajar, and he pushed it open slightly. She was there, at the open window looking out over the palace grounds. The door creaked and gave his presence away.

"You don't have to sneak in, I know you're there. Come in."

Joseph opened the door and entered. He looked around. The paintings were all covered and the paints and brushes unused. The place looked abandoned. "You don't come up here much anymore?"

"There's no one to get away from these days. No reason to hide up here."

"Until tonight?"

"I'm not hiding, Joseph. I'm protecting my family from seeing me like this."

"And what's 'like this'?"

"Oh, I don't know. Betrayed, angry, played…"

"Played! You think your family has played you? Clarisse, don't blame them; all they wanted to do was see you happy. Blame me, for God's sake. I'm the one at fault." Joseph suddenly felt very tired.

"Why did you come here, Joseph?"

"For two reasons. One, because Pierre has always been like a son to me, and it was an honor to stand with him on his wedding day."

"And?"

"And because I wanted to see you again, Clarisse."

She turned to face him, and he caught his breath. The sun was going down behind her, washing her in a beautiful light. Her white suit with its embroidered beads made her look like an angel. In his mind, that's what she had always been to him – an angel.

"You are welcome to stay and be part of the wedding ceremony tomorrow. But I must ask you when it's all over, to please leave the Palace and stay out of my life."

"Clarisse…"

"That's my only offer, Joseph. If you don't like it I can have Marcus drive you to the train station right now."

Joseph bowed slightly, and stepped back through the door. "Out of respect, and because of my promise to His Highness, I will accept HerMajesty's kind offer." And then he disappeared down the stairs. Clarisse watched him go, and when he was out of sight she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and letting the tears come once again.

_A/N Is anybody else freezing in this palace? Brrr._


	11. The Archbishop

Joseph returned to the chapel to face the wedding party. He took his place beside Pierre for the last few moments of the rehearsal, and shook his head in response to Mia's questioning look. Pierre and Charlotte held hands, and she whispered to him: "It will work out, have faith."

A party was scheduled after the rehearsal, with one hundred or so of Genovia's young elite. When the Archbishop declared all details finalized, the wedding party scattered to dress for the dance and buffet, until only Joseph was left in the chapel with the Archbishop.

"No luck, old friend?" the Archbishop, Andrew, asked of Joseph.

"She's made up her mind, Andrew. Somehow her sense of duty to her country has only increased since I proposed to her last year. I don't think she can see any other way than to deny herself the love I offer." Joseph sat on the front pew, his head in his hands.

"Clarisse and I have been friends down through the years, but perhaps today she needs to have a counselor, someone to share her fears with. Go join the party, Joe. I'll talk to her."

The tears had stopped falling, but Clarisse hadn't moved from where she had slid to the floor. The Archbishop found her there, head on her knees, a picture of complete desolation. "Strength comes from weakness, you know."

Clarisse looked up sharply. "I appreciate you coming, Andrew, but I'd rather be alone right now."

"Sorry. I can't do that. A minister is bound to help those in need. And you, my dear friend, are very much in need at this moment."

"And what do you think I am in need of?" Clarisse had erected her wall again, and not even the pastoral presence of the Archbishop would cause it to fall, or so she hoped.

"Love."

"I beg your pardon?"

He said nothing, just letting her think about it for a moment.

"You think I'm in love with him?"

"Clarisse, what's the point in denying it? You've loved the man for forty years, and finally when you actually can admit it, you do the opposite. I'd say you're damn afraid of your own feelings."

She started to say something, but couldn't form the words. Instead, in a small voice, barely above a whisper she admitted: "I am scared."

"Of Joseph?"

"No! I'm scared of having to be just myself, not the Queen. It's who I've been most of my adult life, and now with Mia coming to the throne, I'm unsure of so many of the things I've always taken for granted."

"Like Joseph?"

She turned away from him and faced the window. "I could always put a professional distance between us when I needed to, but I don't have that anymore. The monarchy has always been my safety net with him. Without it, well I..." she hesitated.

"Without it you feel vulnerable?" The Archbishop was determined to help the Queen, his friend, face her true feelings.

"I don't know! I don't know how to be anything else. Our entire friendship has been based on me being the Queen and he being my Head of Security. But now..." she trailed off, unsure.

"Do you think Joseph loves the Queen, or does he love Clarisse?"

She looked at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. The words came back to her, words almost forgotten, "_You were never just my Queen, Clarisse. You were the someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."_

"Well?" The Archbishop prodded her. He could tell she was hopeful, but still struggling to believe.

"I've been such a fool. All this time I've been hiding behind the crown, holding up my duty to Genovia as an excuse not to face him as a woman, as myself." She stopped, running her hand through her hair with a sense of desperation. "But it's too late, I've pushed him away too many times."

The Archbishop held out his hand to her. "Clarisse, your love for Joseph and his for you is the greatest that I have seen in my forty years of ministry. If you don't go downstairs right now and tell that man that you'll be his wife, I'll… well, I'll be sorely disappointed in you!"

Clarisse stifled a laugh. "Yes, My Lord." But then she hesitated, and turned to her friend and confidant once again. "I told him I never wanted to see him again."

"Damn it, woman! Go tell him you changed your mind. And be quick about it before he thinks you meant what you said."

Clarisse wondered how she could have spent years dealing expertly with parliament and world leaders, and yet the man she loved could reduce her to such a state. Finally, she realized she had no choice but to heed the counsel of the Archbishop. She didn't know if Joseph would forgive her, but for the first time since she had watched him drive out the palace gates she had a sense of hope.

The Archbishop watched as her face registered the resolve he had come to know so well over the years. A quick peck on the cheek from his former Queen and she was out the door and down the stairs, forgetting to hasten in her rush to reach the man she loved.

_A/NI sense a warming trend coming.  
__Hopefully I will be forgiven for the torment I've caused so many of you. he he_

_Oh, and there's just one more chapter to come. And you know how to persuade me to post it sooner rather than later..._


	12. Finally

On her way downstairs, Clarisse caught sight of herself in one of the many palace mirrors. She stopped short and took a look at herself: dust from the floor on her suit, wrinkled from slouching, and her face – tear stained, exhausted and troubled. She didn't want to face Joseph like that, so she quickly headed back to her suite, praying that she wouldn't meet anyone on the way.

Unfortunately for her, Shades was making his last rounds in preparation for the evening's party. She nearly bumped into him as she turned a corner.

"Your Majesty! I'm so sorry, are you alright?" Shades noticed his queen looking rather disheveled.

"Yes, I am, or at least I will be. Shades, would you do me a favor? Don't let Joseph leave tonight before I've had a chance to talk with him."

"Of course, Your Majesty, He's due out on the 10 pm train I believe. I'll handcuff him to a chair for you," Shades smiled.

Clarisse actually returned the Head of Security's smile, thinking of Joseph in handcuffs. She regained her composure and replied, "I'm sure he'll stay if you just ask him to, Shades. And I'm hoping he won't want to get on a train tonight."

Shades looked at his Queen, beautiful despite her rumpled clothes and wrecked makeup. He bowed slightly and simply said, "Yes, Ma'am, I'm sure he won't need handcuffs to persuade him." Then he carried on down the hall to complete his rounds. Clarisse could only stare after him, wondering if there was anyone in the palace who didn't seem to be rooting for her and Joseph.

A quick shower, fresh makeup, and a simple navy blue party dress with a powder pink silk scarf and Clarisse was satisfied that she would look all right in the dim light of the party. She chose a pair of diamond earrings, and then removed a small box from her bedside table. She carefully opened it and gazed at the contents.

Many, many years ago, when things were at their worst in Clarisse's relationship with Rupert, and when Pierre and Philippe were both being rebellious in their own ways, Joseph had given her a small pendant as a reminder that she wasn't alone, he would always be there for her. It was made of 18 carat gold, with their initials, C J, in diamonds, entwined around each other. He had told her to pin it inside her suit jacket any time she felt lonely or anxious, so she would remember that not only was he just a few steps away, but very near her heart. She turned the pin over and over in her hands. She had worn it nearly every day, unknown to anyone but herself. Tonight she pinned it on her scarf, in plain view, for all to see, but especially for Joseph. One last look in the mirror and a very excited and nervous Clarisse made her way to the party.

The ballroom was filled with young people Pierre and Charlotte's age, and Mia had also invited some of her generation. The lights were dimmed, and the music very loud and energetic. People were dancing and gathering around the large buffet tables, and having a wonderful time of celebration. Clarisse felt very out of place; this was certainly not the type of party she'd ever thrown, or even attended. Pierre caught her hand as she arrived.

"Mother," he kissed her on both cheeks. "You look beautiful, I'm glad you came. Can I get you anything?"

"Thank you, darling. I'm fine. Nice, er, um, party."

Pierre laughed at his mother's discomfort at her surroundings. "Thanks. Everyone seems to be having a good time." He paused and looked around the room. "Would you care to dance, or get something to eat?"

Clarisse squeezed her son's hand. "Don't worry about me, I'm a professional at these things, you know. I have some business to take care of, I'll be fine."

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty." Pierre watched his mother work her way through the crowd, and suddenly he knew where she was going. "Charlotte!" He called to his fiancée, and she came to stand at his side. "Mother's here and she looks incredible." He indicated Clarisse moving across the dance floor. "I think she's gone over to steal Joe away from Mia. Let's cross our fingers."

Clarisse had seen Mia ask Joe to dance, and smiled to herself at the memory of the first time Joseph had tried to teach Mia to gracefully move around the dance floor. Eventually, she had learned, and tonight she was the picture of grace and poise. Clarisse knew that as much as she had taught her granddaughter, Joseph had been an equally good influence. Now she stepped up to the pair on the dance floor and tapped Mia on the shoulder.

"Would you mind terribly, Amelia?"

Mia's eyes widened as she looked from her Grandmother to Joe and back again. She dropped Joe's hand and stepped away from him. "No, certainly. Go ahead." Mia backed away, but was quickly picked up as a dance partner by another lucky young man.

"May I have this dance?" Joseph asked.

Clarisse stepped into his arms, and noted with great pleasure the flash of surprise on Joseph's face as he saw the pin on her scarf. They began to dance, as they had countless times before, but this time it was different, Joseph could sense it. They spoke no words to each other, communicating only through touch as they glided around other couples, practiced and polished. When the song came to an end, and a rather raucous one began, Joseph suggested they get some air. He led her out the doors and on to the terrace.

"Joseph, let's walk." He nodded and held his arm out to her, which this time she accepted.

They walked in silence for a little while, Joseph just glad to be near her, and Clarisse trying to decide what she should say to him. They weren't afraid of silence, years had given them the gift of peace in each other's company. They arrived at the gazebo, beautifully decorated for the wedding and lit by strings of white rope lights. She turned to face him, and smiled softly and waited.

"You're wearing my pin." It was a statement and a question at the same time.

"Yes, I am. I've worn it on the inside all these years, every day. Tonight there is no other place for it but right here, for you and everyone else to see." She paused, trying to read the expression on his face. After so many years, Joseph had learned patience when dealing with his Sovereign, his love, and he betrayed none of what he was thinking. "Go on" he prompted her.

She looked down, almost embarrassed. "I was given counsel today by a man of the cloth."

"Hellfire and brimstone, I assume?"

The corners of her mouth turned up. "It was a very wise sermon, and I have come to believe that I have made a dreadful mistake."

"Are you planning on repenting, or just asking forgiveness?"

"Both, you see, I need to ask you to forgive me for how I've treated you. It was wrong of me, and I can't tell you how sorry I am that I hurt you. I never meant to, I guess I was trying to protect myself from my feelings. I've had to deny myself so long, I've been afraid of letting go. And I've been very unfair to you. Joseph, my love, can you forgive me?"

He sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. He paused, and with his head bowed, looked up at her and spoke deliberately. "Done. You are forgiven. Now let's move on to the repentance. How do you plan to change?" He still hadn't smiled, but Clarisse knew from their years together that he was enjoying teasing her.

"Well, I thought first I'd do this." She leaned in and kissed his lips, gently.

"That's a good start. What else?"

She took his hand, and breathed in deeply. "You once said that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. If that's still true, I was wondering if I was too late to ask you to accept my hand in marriage?"

Joseph looked at her, the blue eyes, the pale cheeks, and the perfect mouth, and as always when it came to Clarisse, he melted. He pulled her into his arms and held her. "I love you, Clarisse. And your hand in marriage is the greatest gift I could ever have hoped for."

Their kiss, deep and passionate, was noted with satisfaction by several interested parties on the terrace, spying. "Looks like we may have more than one wedding tomorrow" Pierre said to his niece and fiancée. They smiled and Mia yelled "Right on, Grandma!"

"Did you hear something?" Clarisse asked Joseph between kisses.

"Nothing, shh" Joseph continued kissing her and smiled to himself. "Right on, indeed".

The End

A_/N The end has come, and it is a happy one sigh>. How much fun is writing fanfic about these two? I'm away for a couple of weeks, can't wait to see what y'all come up with while I'm gone._

_theologygirl (aka Barb)_


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